Safe
by lilyamongthorns
Summary: She's never had a mother. How does she expect herself to be one? (Emma keeps Henry, non-magic AU. Eventual appearance of all characters).
1. Chapter 1

The baby wiggled in her arms, fighting his hands out of the blankets swaddled around him. She tried to shift him, and he gave a dissatisfied whine. The nurse stuffed pamphlets into the side pocket of the second-hand diaper bag Emma had on her shoulder. "There's this. Information about bottles, getting on a sleep cycle, oh and this might be helpful." The lady held up one obnoxiously cheerful-looking booklet printed in white and blue. "A program for new single moms. Might want to read up on that one."

Emma didn't miss the disapproving crispness in her voice.

"Um, thanks." She steered herself and her…son…for the wheelchair poised at the doorway. In any another situation, she would've come back at this lady with a sharp 'what the hell do you know?' but right now she didn't have the energy.

The baby was wiggling against her like he wanted to escape, to be given to anyone else. Anyone but the lady…the girl…who'd just left prison and would put him to bed tonight in an antique bassinet she'd found for ten bucks at a thrift shop. He should've gone to someone else, to a mom who knew what the hell she was doing. To someone who had a big house and a good job, and didn't have such weak judgment.

The ride outside was smooth and silent, and it reminded her all too much of a similar journey she'd taken from the prison only a few months ago. It couldn't be irony that she'd be released and only have time secure a squalid one-bedroom before being thrust into another sort of prison, but it sure as hell felt like it.

Henry finally calmed down, and settled his head against her breast, eyes closed and the little blue cap on his head puckering at the top as it threatened to slip off. She tugged it down, and smoothed a finger over the bit of dark fringe poking out.

This wasn't the right thing to do. The right thing would've been to stay with what she and her case manager had decided weeks before she'd been released. But all of her belief that she could put another baby into the system without guilt vanished when she heard his first cries. She couldn't do it. Not when she saw him. Not when they put him on her chest even though she'd asked them not to. Not when they showed her his little ink footprints and asked her to name him.

But she couldn't blame anyone but herself now, and since when had she known herself to make good decisions?

The wheels bumped over the metal jamb of the sliding front doors, jostling the baby.

When she didn't get up at first, the nurse sighed impatiently behind her.

"Thanks," she said again, rising hesitantly. "Um…so we'll…" She hitched the diaper bag higher up on her shoulder and pointed to Henry. But the nurse was already steering the empty wheel chair inside like she was participating in a Formula One.

"Shit," she huffed under her breath, and looked down at the baby. "Sorry."

Her car, already loaded with a car seat, wasn't waiting far. The center seat was the safest place for the car seat, she remembered her case manager had said when she handed over the keys to the donated and ancient rust red car. She dropped the bag on the concrete, and fumbled with strapping him in. When she moved his arm to tuck it under the webbing of the seatbelt, it felt like any sort of bend would break him.

"God, you're so little." She scooted onto the back passenger seat, looking him over. His tiny fingers were curled at his cheeks, and though his eyes were closed he was cooing softly. She drew a hand over his head again, and dared to pull off the little blue cap to reveal the thick strands of dark hair that were his father's.

"I'm really scared," she admitted. To herself more than to him. His little head was so soft. His little ears were no bigger than the pad of her thumb. "I don't…" She felt her throat tighten. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing…"

His little head bumped against her hand when he wriggled again, and for whatever reason she decided to take it as encouragement.

"I'm really…" Before she could catch it, a tear dripped onto the white fleece blanket that was cuddled around him. "I'm really sorry…" she said to him, almost voicelessly.

Henry's fingers found her thumb and squeezed tight. It only made her vision blur.

"I'm _really_ sorry."


	2. Chapter 2

AN: A fast update, but I've got most of the story planned out, so it wasn't hard to write.

-O-O-O-

The huge desk was laid with a spray of papers, an ancient computer monitor, squares of sticky notes and a jar of primary colored suckers. She could've been back in prison. Except in prison, there was no candy.

The woman on the opposite side of the desk was smiling too happily and typing too cheerfully as she forced Emma to rehash the past year of her life. She promised the information was purely procedural and confidential. She didn't doubt it, but something about the fact that she was used to giving such information bothered her. Like she'd become desensitized to the system. Any type of one. Or maybe it was the fact that her life always seemed to bring her to these sorts of places that swore to provide hope in hopeless situations but only provided a latch and once you were in, there was no out.

But she was desperate. And Henry was hungry. He'd lost more weight than normal and she wasn't able to get him to latch. She couldn't afford the formula the doctor prescribed at his check up. She couldn't find a job if she didn't have anywhere to bring Henry, and she couldn't afford to keep either one of them alive if she didn't have a job.

So she'd contacted the agency the nurse at the hospital had given her the pamphlet for. Mothers-to-Mothers, they were called. It was a last ditch effort, and she vowed to herself that it was only temporary.

She was buried in an oversized hoodie and an unraveling scarf she'd inherited from an unknown owner from the Salvation Army, looking as swallowed and small as she felt. Henry had been given little mittens and socks, a thickly knit cap and diapers to keep him…well, pampered…until he was six. Her apartment was only furnished with a twin bed, Henry's cradle, and a sagging couch she'd asked the landlord to help her haul upstairs when she found it by the dumpster. It was embarrassing, and she was trying. Or trying to try. She wasn't sure.

The idea of the program, the woman with the lollipops said, was to provide a mentor for new moms until they learned the ropes, and provide them with any information they needed like jobs and transportation. So she recounted the story of how she ended up in jail, how Neal was nowhere to be found, and the problems she was having in her first few weeks of motherhood. Which was everything.

Through the entire thing, the lady didn't seem phased. She probably saw it all the time. She probably thought it more helpful and encouraging to keep a smile plastered on her face. Emma thought it was just obnoxious.

"We have a mentor available who just finished up with a new mama and her daughter. She helped enroll her in one of the most prestigious preschools in the area. In terms of how long she's been with us, she's got a very high success rate and a lot of connections, which would be good for you."

"Ok," Emma said, glancing down at her son sleeping soundlessly in his carrier by her side.

"She's here now, if you'd like to meet her."

"Fine." She stood on cue when the other woman did, and she picked up the baby carrier easily. Though she was having trouble with everything else, Henry's companionship was more than welcomed and normal by now, which she was glad of. At first she'd been too scared to hold him. Now she couldn't take her eyes off him.

She followed the women's lead down the hall, to an open door where a slew of toys littered the floor, and toddlers played not-so-quietly. "If we get moms who are just recently on their own, or have older kids, they'll come here during the day for counseling sessions with their mentors, or for day care." She smiled sweetly. "It's a little rowdy; I'll just grab her and you can meet privately." She dipped her head around the doorframe while Emma waited behind her. "Regina?"

Emma watched a woman clad in professional attire stand from where she was playing blocks with a little boy. High heels, red lipstick, and all, the woman approached with a smile as bright and wide as the other lady's. Was it a requirement to work here to smile so much?

"Regina, this is Emma."

Regina leaned forward for Emma's free hand and shook it. She hadn't offered, and suddenly she was thrown back to smiling foster moms and awkward doorstep meetings.

"And this is Henry," the caseworker offered.

"Oh, he's handsome," Regina cooed, bending down for a closer look at the baby and Emma twisted herself to bring the baby carrier away from her reach. Regina straightened again. "Nice to meet you, Emma. I'd be happy to help in whatever way I can."

"Sure," Emma said, not liking the way the woman's eyes rolled over her second-hand clothing, feeling suddenly like a dangerous insect under Regina's gaze.

"Emma's just come in this morning, and I assured her you're one of our best moms."

Moms? Emma glanced down at Henry who had fallen into quiet sleep.

"Typically, you two have an initial meeting to discuss your most prominent needs, see if you two are going to work well together, and work out a plan between yourself that would benefit you," the case worker said. "You'll have a meeting each month with me to review your progress."

"Ok."

Regina laughed. It made Emma's insides twist. "Don't be so nervous, Emma. I'm here to help. Let's go somewhere quieter to talk. Coffee?"

"Ok," Emma blurted again stupidly.

When she laid eyes on Regina's Mercedes outside, it was enough to spark an instinct in her she hadn't felt in nearly a year. If this car had been left in some alley unattended, it definitely would've been a temptation. She would've taken this over the yellow Bug in a heartbeat. The mere thought made her pause when she strapped Henry into the backseat. She fumbled the buckle.

"Let me," Regina insisted, bumping her elbow to jimmy her way into the backseat.

Emma ducked from the car, crossing her arms over her chest. Regina finished the job for her, and Henry seemed comfortable enough.

"Thanks," Emma nearly spat, making her irritation obvious. She dropped herself into the front seat while Regina rounded the car to the driver's side.

At the café, Emma was quick to unhook the car seat herself.

Regina all too politely insisted she grab a table while she ordered their drinks herself.

"Cocoa, with cinnamon," Emma requested, leaning down to gather Henry into her arms, just needing to make sure he was close. He whined loudly when she settled him against her shoulder.

"Shhh…shh…" she insisted. "I'm going to sort it all out when we go back to the office. I'm gonna tell the case worker we don't want this psycho. We take it back, and we don't want to do any of this anymore. Don't worry about it, kid."

Regina arrived too soon with two paper cups of coffee. "So how's he behaving so far? He's such a quiet one."

"He's fine," Emma answered. "He's already sleeping through the night. Except when he doesn't."

She had meant it sarcastically, but Regina laughed.

"He's really not taking a bottle well. Won't breastfeed, and I…haven't found a good formula." She chose her words carefully. If she had to have this meeting, she wouldn't put it all out on the table. The more time she spent with these people—with em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"her/em—the more her pride told her she could do this herself. She could handle this.

"The father?"

"Henry murmured softly against her. He was starving. She was starving him….

She patted his back, trying to comfort him and herself at the same time.

"He's in Thailand."

"Wow. Well there's a story." Regina looked all too interested.

"One I'd rather not get into."

Regina settled her hands on the table, folded neatly as if she were making a business deal. "I've been helping moms for about three years now. I'm not married, not able to have a child of my own so…" She shrugged easily, looking slightly embarrassed and as human as Emma had seen her thus far. "I wanted to help other mothers in any way I can. The most important aspect of a relationship like this, Emma, is trust. I've got to be able to trust you…" Her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed. "And you've got to trust me. Now can we agree on that?"

Henry whined again, wriggling uncomfortably. She tried to bring him closer. She locked eyes with the woman across from her and set her jaw.

"Eventually."

-O-O-O-

She kept her hand on the little rails, rocking the bassinet, trying to soothe him to sleep.

"Come on kid, its midnight."

Henry wailed louder, his chubby legs kicking away the blankets she'd meticulously tucked around him.

She groaned, turning to bury her face in her own pillow. She was sprawled on her own bed, and had tugged Henry's cradle next to it so she wouldn't have to stand to rock him. She was exhausted. This was exhausting.

"I know. I know what you want, and I'm sorry….I don't know what to do, ok?"

He wasn't being satiated by her half-hearted apologies. He only cried louder. A rhythmic thumping from upstairs told her she wasn't the only one Henry was keeping awake til all hours.

""Goddammit…I'm trying. Ok?" She wasn't sure if she'd said it to the asshole upstairs or to Henry. She felt a familiar prick at the corners of her eyes. She wasn't going to cry... _She wouldn't cry._

She shifted and sat up, leaning down to scoop him up and settle him against her shoulder. "Ok. Ok. Its gonna be ok." She was begging now.

His little fists pounded her chest pathetically and he only shrieked louder. "Hey…" she said in a soothing tone. "Heyyyy…"

She fluffed up the pillows behind her to lean against them. "Let's try one more time ok? Just for kicks." She unsnapped the first few buttons of her flannel shirt and tried to get him to latch.

He jerked away.

The prickling in her eyes was back. She was failing. Failing this just like everything else… What if she was doing this all wrong? What if she was hurting him? What if she had forgotten everything they'd showed her at the hospital? What if she was just cursed? If she was never supposed to be mother…? She was never supposed to have a family.

"Come on," she groaned. She shifted and tried again. "Come on. Please."

For a few seconds, his screeching stopped. She listened to him take a few desperate breaths. Then she felt an uncomfortable tug.

"Oh…" She looked down at him, where he was suckling contently.

She gasped. "You did it."

Her baby huffed softly and happily against her, finally quiet. Finally happy. She stroked his hair.

""Its gonna be ok, isn't it? We'll be ok."

The moonlight through the crooked blinds drew long lines on the floor. The mostly empty apartment smelled of must and stale cat litter, and outside the whirl of sirens was like a church bell that indicate the hour. But they were in this together, and they would make it. Henry would never have to be subject to abandonment, to people who called themselves parents and took on the role like a cardboard cutout. He would grow up with love, knowing exactly who he was and where he belonged. She could believe in that much.

Tentatively, she tipped her chin down to press her lips to the crown of his head.

""I love you, Henry."


	3. Chapter 3

The yellow envelope was wrinkled with water spots and heat. It's corners were crushed and the edge where the deal was torn was frayed like an unraveling tapestry. She had felt rage boil in her when the guard opened it a few months prior. Thailand? And only $500? Where was that supposed to get her? She'd spent it already...on rent for this sad excuse for an apartment and on some dime store shelf food. Was it supposed to be an apology? For knocking her up and getting her stuck in jail for eight months? And how has he even found out? Why Thailand of all places? He couldn't possibly be any more unreachable. But she's kept the envelope because nothing was more infuriating and frustrating and made her heart ache more than seeing his name in the upper right corner.

Neal Cassidy.

Like a brand. She could not disprove he was the one who sent it. She couldn't deduce that there was some fairy godmother out there working for her. It was him. And she hated him.

Henry was snoozing nearby. He was so little and wrinkly and wiggly that it was nearly impossible to say he looked like a person. But he did. The hair was Neal's. His toes were Neal's. The attitude...she'd have to take credit for that. And so much of him was still unfamiliar, like he was made up of the family she had never met.

He was a month old now, and while things were not getting easier, they were getting more familiar. More routine.

She'd made herself a dinner of Ramen noodles and flopped onto her dilapidated couch to stare at the empty envelope and the only thing she had that had ever been touched by his hand.

She told herself she would never be one of those girls...the girls who stuck with their baby daddies just because they provided the only income and protection and consistency available. She could make her own life. She would not try and find him. She didn't even particularly care that Henry was never going to have a dad, because she believed enough that he'd be able to define himself too. But with all of that, it didn't hurt any less being left. Being framed and abandoned again...and by someone she really thought she loved.

Now she was here, trying to get a job anywhere that would take a woman with a record. And failing. She allowed Regina to watch Henry a limited amount of hours a day while she went looking. Something in her told her it was a bad idea, but she needed the help and honestly...she was pretty sure she could handle Regina if need be.

She wasn't the worst person she could've sought help from. The lady was probably rich and always wore this spicy perfume that only really posh women wore. And Henry made her smile, so if Emma was doing some sort of kindness by letting her help her and her son, she was fine with it.

But now there was the issue of how she would pay her rent. And buy food. And suitable clothes for a job. And clothes and diapers for Henry. The thought had crossed her mind to ask Regina for help, and worry about the rest later. But there was no way in hell she'd sink that low. She hadn't ever take a handout from anyone and she wouldn't start now, no matter how desperate she was. Something had to give.

Henry hiccupped himself awake, twitching and shrieking until she finally picked him up.

"Hey kid," she said softly. "Its alright. Your mom's here."

She couldn't even believe she was allowed to call herself that. That this title now applied to her, who had never really had a strong female figure in her life, who had never related well to any woman under any circumstances.

"I'm your mom," she said while she bounced him gently in her arms. "Yeah…"

He quieted almost instantly and leaned against her.

"What do you think we're gonna do, huh? Think I can get a job? That'd be nice, huh?"

His like hands went up to his face and she let his fingers gently wrap around one of hers.

"Your dad sucks, kid," she said. "Maybe I'm not allowed to say that to you, but he kinda does. He's not gonna be around, and I hope one day you'll be ok with that. I hope you'll understand why… But I don't want you to think just because he isn't here that I'm not happy. Because you're the best chance at happiness I've had. And I hope one day, even if we never get out of this stupid apartment, you'll understand everything."

A familiar wetness trickled down her cheek. "I just want to give you your best chance…"

-O-O-O-

Of course a woman like that would have a house like this. In the suburbs of Boston, sprawling out of a cove in the trees like a spider. With a twisting driveway and an even line of apple trees in the wide yard. Impeccably decorated like she'd just finished hosting a photoshoot for Better Homes. Emma was surprised she didn't ask her to remove her Chucks at the door.

Somewhere, she'd gotten a fancy little bassinet for Henry that was battery powered and rocked on its own. He was gurgling happily when she arrived and she immediately picked him up and hugged him close.

"How was the job hunt?" Regina asked, plating the dinner she'd insisted Emma stay for. Lasagna.

"Fine." She only spoke sentences if necessary around this woman.

"Any luck?"

"A diner," she answered, patting Henry's back. "They'll have me in for an interview next week," she lied. There was a diner, but they hadn't said anything about the interview, and the little box on the application that asked her if she'd ever been convicted of a crime…well…it didn't lie and it didn't slip past Emma that the manager that took her paperwork seemed partway between bemused and repelled.

"Lovely." Her tone didn't sound as pleased as her words as she escorted Emma into the dining room, plates in hand.

She laid Henry back in the little rocking cradle and scooted him near their chairs.

"Tell me, Emma. Why pick a name like Henry?"

Emma shrugged and shoveled a mouthful of Lasagna. "Anything but his dad's name, I guess. I like it. And its better than naming him something stupid like Conner."

"I like it too. Its regal."

Emma shrugged again.

"So how is it you know his father's gone off to Thailand?"

She stiffened, and stopped chewing, looking up to give Regina a withering look. "Can we not?"

Regina huffed and her fork clanked noisily against the plate. "I'm just trying to get to know you Emma. What you prefer we talk about?"

 _I'm just trying to get to know you, Emma._ The most condescending thing that anyone had ever said to her ever, and if she only had a nickel for every time they'd said it, maybe she'd have enough to buy gas for her car this week. Foster families were always trying to 'get to know her.' And then there was running away in her teens, and the first time she'd ever stolen a CD from a music store. _We're just trying to understand why you would do something like this…_

"He framed me," she blurted. "He framed me for theft and abandoned me, ok? And I was sentenced to six months. I was told I was lucky I didn't get the full sentence of eleven months, and thank God I guess. Because I found out I was pregnant almost as soon as I got there. Son of a bitch knocked me up and had me take the fall for what had been his stupid scheme. I only found out he was in Thailand because he sent me something while I was there. And no, I really don't care about finding him."

Regina watched her, but pushed food around on her plate. "I see. I wasn't trying to pry. I can only help you as much as you'll let me."

Emma sighed. "Not to be rude of anything. But I'll let you know when I need your help. And that's with watching my son while I'm getting back on my feet, not in decoding my past and not trying to be my mom. I've had plenty of people try to be my mom, I really don't feel like adding one more."

Regina's jaw set and she moved to slowly lay her fork aside noiselessly onto the linen napkin near her plate. "I bet that mouth got you a lot of attention back at the group home. But it doesn't work here."

Emma glared. Was she trying to scare her?

"I've seen dozens of girls like you, Miss Swan. Trying to prove themselves. Let me make it clear that what you need right now…what your kid needs…isn't someone who still knows so little about the world that they feel the need to _prove themselves."_

She wanted to come up with some witty response. Some biting remark that would allow her to scoop Henry up and get out of here like she should've done a half an hour ago.

But Regina was right. She wasn't going to admit it. She tried to duck away from eye contact by picking at her dinner, tried to keep up a tough front with her shoulders squared and her eyes narrowed. But once she had Henry in her car, driving back home to Boston in the blue-grey dusk, she understood there was no way to argue with what she'd said.


	4. Chapter 4

"No, no, no. This can't be happening." She pounded her hand against the door in trivial protest. She tried the key again, but could tell by the shiney new lock that she was definitely locked out. Henry's cradle, the few clothes they had. Gone.

"Shit." She turned, a flurry of rain-soaked hair and a sticky t-shirt. Henry was in his carrier on the floor of the hallway, thankfully asleep and making no noise. She was sure she would've woken him with her shouting and cursing at the door, as if throwing a fit was going to fix any of this.

Evicted.

She needed to throw something. Hit something. She pressed her hands to her eyes. "Dammit….why is this happening…?"

It was only a matter of time. Out of money, spending anything she had to scrimp a gallon of gas, or buy a pacifier, or a small pack of diapers. But now it was pouring outside, and they were stuck in this hallway with nowhere to go for the night. She'd be damned if she called Regina.

She looked down at Henry's carrier and bent to pull away the damp blanket that she'd covered it with, to keep him dry on the way up the stairs.

"I'm a horrible mother. I'm a horrible person."

She reached to hold his little hand.

-O-O-O-

It was still storming when she had them barricaded safely in her ugly red car. She had strapped Henry's seat to the back passenger side, and leaned the driver's seat all the way back so she could see him.

She kept a hand on him. Even in his sleep, his fingers wrapped around hers.

"I love you," she said in the silence of the car.

The lightening flashed like a camera bulb, bright and quick. It threw weird shadows on his little face.

Her vision blurred, and she let it. Tears dripped onto the hard headrest, sliding against the cheap vinyl.

"You're all I have."

She didn't sleep. She just watched him. And when he woke up at five, before the sun even made an appearance in the post-rain, orange-tinted sky, she was there. Like he would always be there for her.

-O-O-O-

She hadn't eaten in days. She had no money, and no way to cook now. She couldn't bring herself to bring Henry to the Sally for any meal; single mothers and little babies...it just didn't seem like a good idea. She had been out this afternoon job searching again. Honestly, just wandering town for the past hour after she stopped by a coffee shop, a grocery store, and a department store for applications. Her walk back to her car led her to a convenience store. And honestly...it was getting too difficult to resist.

When she went inside, she was immediately tracking a route out. She'd swing by the chip aisle, snag a candy bar, a bear claw for the next morning... Did they sell diapers?

A policeman was leaned against the front counter, chatting with the cashier like old pals. He tossed her a friendly smile and nodded politely. She reciprocated.

Shit.

She moseyed around, pretending to decide on a soda, then changing her mind. She listened while she browsed.

"It's a touchy subject. She feels horrible about it and I can't ever seem to find the right words to make it better," the cop was saying.

"I get it. Grace was our only, and that was difficult. I hope it works out for you...Its the best thing you'll ever do, I promise."

The cop sighed. "Well she's meeting me at the station after school, so I better get going."

She had reached the end of the aisle, and was hurrying to poke one last treat into her purse when he turned to face her.

They locked eyes for only a second, and she bolted.

"Hey! Stop where you are!"

She wasn't listening. She didn't even hear the tinkle of the bell above the door, she was gone so fast. She dodged people, clinging to her bag like a life buoy. Her Chucks pounded the sidewalk, and she nearly jumped into traffic had the cop not grabbed her elbow.

Her spine shot straight, her hands up. The crumpled cellophane bags hit the sidewalk with a crunch.

She expected a gun, cuffs, something. But he wasn't even shouting, demanding she turn around, or reading her rights. He was just looking at her in this weird way that was empathetic and relieved and nothing at all how she thought a cop would look at someone who'd just been caught red handed. He huffed, out of breath from their short run, and looked suddenly ashamed.

"What's your name?" he asked, not even reaching for the radio hooked on his belt.

"Emma. Emma Swan." She swallowed, not able to quell the shiver in her voice. She was going back. How was she going to contact Regina about Henry?

His eyes were deep blue, she noticed, and he was still watching her in this way that could've been fatherly. Completely calm.

"Come on. Come with me..." He turned, a gentle hand still hooked over her elbow. He didn't yank her forward, and something in her followed willingly.

He escorted her to the backseat of his patrol car, shutting the door and ducking into the front seat himself. The radio played some rock'n'roll oldies station she could barely make out. He drove awhile, and she wondered if he was taking her in, or trying to scare her.

They rounded the block back to the convenience store, and she half expected him to ask her to follow him inside. After all, she'd stolen from his friend. But they passed it and headed down a main road. The police radio crackled with unknown codes and a lady's voice that sounded like she was speaking through traffic cone. She'd been in this situation before; the surroundings were familiar, but never had she been this confused, or wary.

At a red light, she finally dared to speak. "Um...are you taking me in?"

"I have to," he said simply, with this little nonchalant shrug that made her glare at him through the grate that separated them.

"But you haven't cuffed me. You haven't even arrested me yet," she said dumbly.

He turned to face her, grinning, for just a moment before turning back to the road. "No offense, but I'm not scared of a girl who stole a bag of pretzels."

"None taken," she murmured, settling back into her seat.

"I'm Officer Nolan. You can call me David, if you like."

She was silent. Minutes later when they pulled up to the police station, she waited for him to let her out of the car and walk her inside. She didn't try to walk ahead, or run away. Even though she could've. She didn't know if it was because she was so weirded out by his calm attitude, or because she actually wanted to, but she followed all his instructions while he looked her up in the system. He brought her a bottle of water and a bag of chips from the vending machine before plopping into his desk chair. She sat across from him.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

"So…six months, huh?"

Finally. Now that he knew her history, he was gonna hold her. Now that he knew this wasn't just a one-time deal.

"Eighteen?"

She nodded.

"Hmm…" He twisted his chair from side to side, watching her with that same weird look like he actually cared about her. Like he hated punishing her. Like he was gonna reach out any second and give her this big dad-hug she'd never had.

Something about his look made her instantly apologetic. "I'm sorry," she blurted, looking down at her shoes. "I…know it doesn't mean anything, but I'm sorry."

"Emma," he said, like he'd been calling her that for years.

She glanced up.

"I'm not going to arrest you. I'm not even going to keep you overnight. Because I think you're a good kid. A good _young lady,_ whose probably been thought of as a kid for too long."

She looked confused. "You've only known me five minutes. How do you know?"

He shrugged again, smiling knowningly. "I just know." He stood and straightened his belt. "Now wait here, eat your snack. We'll talk in a few, ok?" He edged around the desk, headed for the main lobby.

"Wait," she said quickly. "I have a kid. He's with his…godmother. If it's going to be past six, I need to call her."

"I'll take you back to your car in about half an hour. My wife's here." He pointed to the door and gave her a kind smile before sauntering away.

She munched on her chips, watching the other officers mill around the bull pen. She recognized none of them, which was a good thing she supposed. Her mind drifted to Henry, and how she would've been able to pick him up early were it not for this. Were it not for her own selfishness.

She thought to what Regina said. She was going to try to begin defining herself by her own rules, not anyone else's. She deserved it, and Henry deserved it. Even now htat they were living in the backseat of her car, it was what they had, and she would try to make better for them. But for now, she'd survive. They would. So far, she'd been pretty good at surviving.

Minutes later, Officer Nolan returned with a woman at his side. She heard them bantering softly, heard the woman's happy giggle. She had a cute haircut, and wore a pink cardigan over a crisp white blouse. Their hands were clasped and swinging between them, and it was enough to make Emma smile. It was like they'd just emerged from a fairytale.

"Mary Margret, this is Emma." Officer Nolan introduced them once they reached the desk. "Emma, this is my wife, Mary Margret."

"Hi Emma," the woman said chipperly, settling down in the other chair beside hers. "That's a beautiful name."

"Thanks," Emma offered quietly. She stood up and gathered the water bottle from his desk. "I'll just walk myself out."

"No, that's alright. I'll drive you. It's only four. Sit a minute."

Watching him curiously, Emma eased herself back into her seat.

"So you killed the fish?" David asked his wife, sitting back in his chair as well, clearly continuing their conversation from earlier.

"I didn't kill it!" Mary Margret exclaimed. "I was just showing the kids how to take of the fish tank. I was going to put him in a beaker while we cleaned the tank, but instead I poured him down the drain," she admitted shamefully. David chuckled loudly.

"Needless to say, the entire class was traumatized. So I had to promise ice cream sandwiches on Friday to get everyone to calm down enough to finish our math lesson."

"So that's a hamster, a parakeet, and a fish now?" David laughed.

"Oh, shut up," she said playfully. "Maybe we should just stick to volcanoes."

"Mary Margret teaches fourth grade," David said, looking to Emma. She nodded. She couldn't help but feel out of place. Uncomfortable. Like she was intruding. She hoped David wouldn't say why she was here. She tried to think of an excuse to get out of the offered ride back to her car so she could see herself out.

"How old is your son, Emma?" he asked.

"Two months old now," she admitted, her eyes darting downward.

Mary Margret gasped. "Oh. A newborn. How sweet."

"He's pretty great," Emma agreed.

"I'd love to meet him." She gasped again, excitedly and looked to her husband. "We should have them for dinner!"

"Excellent idea," David agreed.

"Oh, um…" Emma tried.

"Oh, please do. We insist."

Emma glanced to David, who was smiling star struck at his wife, obviously in agreement.

"Alright. Sometime," she said, if only to get out of here faster.

"I should drive Emma back to her car. I'll meet you at home." David stood.

"Ok. I'll wait for you for dinner."

"No need. Just wait for me for dessert."

Emma looked away when they kissed. She honestly couldn't figure out if that was an innuendo, or if he was actually talking about cake and ice cream. She didn't want to find out.

David let her have the front passenger seat of the patrol car. They rode in silence again, and Emma was already churning thoughts of where to park to sleep tonight. And how best to keep the fact that she and her baby were now sleeping in a car from Regina for the longest possible length of time.

"So I was thinking," David said, making her jump and turn to face him. "Maybe you can help out around the station a few days a week. I hate doing paperwork," he admitted, looking sheepish. "You can help me out."

"As compensation for not arresting me?" She glared.

But David shook his head. "I don't think you're a bad person, Emma. Just…" He shrugged. "Maybe someone who bad things have happened to…And I'm not trying to give you a second chance because you owe anything, to me or to anyone else. Let's just say I'm hoping it'll be good for you. That's all."

She had no prospects. No job. No interview. She had nothing really, and nothing to lose.

"I'll pay you. And there's free lunch and coffee," he added.

She didn't need that as persuasion, but free meals couldn't be passed up. "Ok. When do I start?"

"Can you be at the station at eight tomorrow?"

She nodded.

"Great. See you then, Emma."

She stepped onto the curb when he stopped next to her ugly car, embarrassed that he had to see it, but not really caring either way. She watched him drive away, and thought about how perfect he seemed. How cookie-cutter neat his wife was. People weren't like this. There definitely had to be a catch.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Thank you for all the follows. I really really appreciate it! You guys are so awesome. I needed some David POV in this chapter, because the father/daughter relationship kills me…in a good way. Also, I'd like to point out that my age gap is a little different than the show suggests. If David and Mary Margret had aged, they would've been around 50 or so when Emma was 18. I don't want them to appear to be that old in this story. I'd say around late thirties is close enough. I clock them at 30, but I think that's still a bit young to be having a parent/child relationship with Emma. Anyways, just wanted to clear that up. Read on.

-O-O-O-

"Oh my goodness, he is just the sweetest thing!" Mary Margret was cooing, bouncing Henry gently in her arms, smiling on him like he'd set the moon and stars in alignment.

David beamed behind her before going back to chopping vegetables for their dinner salad.

"How is work?" She asked Emma.

"Good. I think," she said uncertainly, looking to David for confirmation.

He nodded. "You're doing great, Emma. I don't even feel guilty about not doing my paperwork."

Mary Margret chuckled. "He's definitely glad to have you, Emma."

She handed the baby back to Emma when the oven timer rang, and she hurried to pull a pie from the oven.

"Do you like apple?"

"Oh yes," Emma said. "I've got a big sweet tooth."

"Me too." Mary Margret said, finding the lid for her pie dish.

"She hides candy in her bedside table," David said.

"That was one time!"

"And who else on earth drinks hot cocoa over coffee? Not to mention with cinnamon on top."

"I do that," Emma admitted.

"We must be related," Mary Margret joked, bringing a pan of Chicken Parmesan to the dining room table where Emma sat.

"I appreciate you guys having me," she said, laying Henry in his carrier next to her chair. Since she'd arrived, they kept up easy conversation. It wasn't uncomfortable. These people were the most...charming people she'd ever met. She couldn't even bring herself to think that maybe she shouldn't be hoping so much that she'd finally found people she could stand to be around that wouldn't end up hurting her. But everyone had their faults.

"No problem at all. We stay so busy, sometimes we forget there's people outside." Mary Margret laughed. "It's good to have company. And have such a sweet baby, too." She sat in the chair next to Emma's and leaned down to coo at Henry. Emma didn't miss the longing in her eyes, and when she glanced back to David who sat across from her, he looked far away in his own thoughts, shoveling food around on his plate as if his fork were a pitchfork.

After she had left, with sleeping Henry tucked safely into her back seat, the Nolans washed the dishes together and tidied the kitchen.

"Where you at?" David asked, watching Mary Margret scrub the dish towel over a plate, certain it was more than thoroughly dry.

"Emma is really sweet," she said, eyes out the kitchen window.

He nodded, passing a couple clean forks her way. "She is."

"I don't think its entirely coincidence that she came to us at the right time."

"I thought the same thing." He smiled her way.

"I want her…I want _them_ to have their best chance."

He grabbed the towel from her hands and dried his hands. He pressed a kiss into her hair. "Me too."

She went upstairs for a shower. He flipped all the lights off, locked the doors. She was already done reading her nightly chapter when he emerged from his own shower. He stood staring at her, in their bed, curled onto her side.

She'd left the light on for him. It was one of her quirks. She hated being in the bed alone in a dark room. Whenever he was out overnight on police work, he always came home to find her with her bedside lamp still on, fast asleep. It was sweet when he was here, but it worried him sometimes that she had to feel this way. Like she just couldn't be comfortable without him.

"David?" She asked without turning to face him.

"Yes?" He finished the buttons on his nightshirt. "I thought you were asleep already." He plopped onto his side of the bed.

"Do you think it'll ever happen?"

He looked over at her. He could not remember seeing her like this in the ten years they'd been married. She was so hurt, so upset and at herself...and he wished he could say something, do anything to fix it. It had been weeks now, and she'd been moody and distant. The only times she seemed her old self was right after school, and when Emma was around. School energized her, and he knew she liked Emma, but he wondered if being around this young girl with a baby—it was just too soon.

"I have hope," he said, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder. He settled himself behind her and wrapped an arm over her waist.

Her hand came up to cover his, lacing their fingers.

"I just don't want to lose again," she said. He could hear her voice quiver. "But the minute I start to doubt, is the minute I know I will."

He leaned up to press a kiss to her temple. "I won't ever stop believing in you," he whispered. His palm smoothed over her flat belly, insisting that something—someone—would still grow there. Someday.

He reached over her easily to tug the string of the lamp, and settled back behind her.

He believed this was meant to be for them. For her. She had wanted a child so badly for so many years, and with Emma and Henry in their lives now, he knew this desire would only get stronger. He could not—would not—let her stop hoping.

-O-O-O-

"Hey I found this," David said, sliding a paper to her across the desk.

Emma looked up from her computer screen. "Night classes?"

"Yeah. I saw it advertised at the coffee shop this morning. Thought you might be interested."

"Oh..." Emma scanned the flyer curiously. "Thanks."

"Just trying to help out, Ya know? I don't know what your plans are, but..."

"No, thanks," she said. "Really. I'll look into it." She could not afford it now, but it couldn't hurt once she would be able to. "I actually...maybe was thinking about taking some classes in law."

David grinned widely. "Really? What is it you want to do?"

She shrugged. "Dunno. But I think it feels right, ya know? Its time to be better," she said decidedly, staring at her reflection in the computer monitor. "For me and Henry."

She looked up to one of David's proud smiles that were getting all too familiar. "Good. I'm glad. Hey so…" He leaned down to whisper. "Do you have to pick Henry up?"

She shook her head. "His godmother's keeping him late, since I told her I'd be here after hours." She hated that lie. Regina wasn't his godmother, and nor would she ever consider making her such. But she was decent enough and good enough to her son that she could grin and bear it.

"Technically, I'm not supposed to do this. But I just got a tip about this guy we've been on to for quite awhile. I'm gonna be staked out til all hours tonight…Mary Margret hates it when I'm alone. You could come along. It might turn out exciting. But then again it might turn out boring as hell."

She grinned and gave a shrug. "Sure. Sounds sneaky."

They took an unmarked car, and except for his gun and badge, David was devoid of any sort of uniform that would indicate his profession.

"Got a three of diamonds?"

"Go fish."

He snatched a card from the stack on the console.

"Got an ace of clubs?"

"Dammit…" He passed over the card, and Emma accepted it with a devious smile.

"Its simple strategy," she said when he asked how she could be so good at a stupid kid's game. "Hey!" She looked up through the windshield, pointing to two men a few blocks away. Flooded in the fluorescent light from a convenience store parking lot, they were shouting over each other. A car was parked nearby, next to a gas pump, but judging by the look of these guys, the fight wasn't over who was next in line. These weren't their guys, but that meant nothing if someone was in danger.

David started the car, but when Emma saw the back door of the car open, and a young woman get out, she was gone. She sprang out of the car and was already halfway up the block once she registered David's yell behind her and his tires squealing on the asphalt. The siren whirred a few times, red and blue light thrown across the awning of the gas station.

Still in a sprint, she watched the scene unfold in slow motion before her. The woman held up her hands, obviously trying to settle things. She turned when she caught the force of one man's backhand, hair fanning around her. He shoved her back again, and she shouted something indistinct. It didn't matter. Emma was seeing red.

She got there before David reeled into the driveway, slamming into the tallest man with the full force of her body.

"GET OUT OF THE WAY!" she heard David roar, but she couldn't look up. Her fists were too busy smashing into this guy's face. She was yanked away before she could land another punch, her fist glancing the concrete painfully. She rolled onto her back and watched dazed as David forced the guy on the ground on his stomach, snapping on handcuffs with one hand, aiming his gun with the other.

It could've been called luck that another officer tore out of the store, his gun already raised, shouting at the other two to get on the ground. Emma watched, stupefied, until David demanded she get in the car. She did without protest, locking the doors once she did.

She watched through the window while the criminals were escorted away from the scene by backup, and David calmed the woman down enough to ask some questions. No one took her in, but Emma didn't miss the way David stayed behind to help her gas up the car that was left behind.

When he flopped into the front seat of their unmarked car, his shoulders were hunched and his face expressionless. "She has some friends she can stay with tonight. The guys are being booked as we speak."

He shifted the car into drive and she remained silent while he pulled out of the lot.

"You really shouldn't have done that," He said quietly. A beat passed. His voice had an edge when he spoke again. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I wasn't going to let her get hurt," she said, cradling her hand that started stinging just at the mention of her stupid stunt.

"It was entirely out of line," he said. "It could…you've could've…" He sighed. "Nevermind, I'm not going to lecture you. I'm not your dad."

The rest of the ride back to the station was dead silent. It had been quite some time since she'd been in this type of situation; since someone had been so angry that just sitting next to them made her claustrophobic. He wasn't her dad. But he was probably the closet thing she'd ever had to one. No foster parent had ever really cared. They might've said so, but Emma could always tell. She'd developed this skill after years of watching and observing, and she could always tell when people were being genuine. David and Mary Margret were the most genuine people she'd probably ever encountered, and she'd thrown herself carelessly into something that threatened to wound the trust David had been so willing to give when he barely even knew her.

In the parking lot at the police station, she slid from the car and headed for her own on the opposite side of the lot.

"You're gonna pick Henry up with busted knuckles?" he called after her.

She looked at the blood oozing from her fingers, already dried and darkening. Wordlessly, she followed him inside and let him patch her up.

"It was stupid," she admitted, sitting on the counter while he taped up her cuts.

"You saved that woman from getting worse than she did," he said, dabbing where her hand had scraped the concrete when he pushed her. She hissed and fought to jerk away.

"Regina's going to pissed."

"Mary Margret might have to call in sick tomorrow, depending on the size of her meltdown," he said jokingly, grinning to himself.

"I'm an idiot. I'm sorry."

"You took down a fully grown man at a full sprint. It was idiotic, but you've got guts. You can't be a cop without guts."

"Hey, who said I wanted to be cop?" she said, grinning at him.

He shrugged. "You'd make a good one."

She hopped down from the counter, surveying her hand and the eight butterfly bandages that laced across it. "I've really got to get Henry. Do I still have a job here after all this?"

He snapped the first aid kit shut and nodded to her with a smile. "See you in the morning, Emma."


	6. Chapter 6

AN: A shorter chapter, but there were things I wanted to establish here and pick up in the next, so here ya go.

-O-O-O-

She knew something suspicious was going on when she was helping Emma load Henry into the car one afternoon and noticed how the pile of clothes in her backseat was growing. It wasn't just something a young girl did: keep clothes in her car, forgotten laundry or a change after work. She noticed the outfit Emma had worn just the day before. She noticed Henry's little shirt and pants tossed on the pile, a hairbrush stuck in the pocket of the back of the seat. A toothbrush. An open package of diapers.

She had said nothing about it, opting to confirm her suspicions when the time was right.

It was her duty, appointed as Emma's mentor, to monitor these things. To report her progress, or any lack thereof. And if Emma had herself and Henry living from the backseat of a car, this certainly qualified as worthy of reporting.

She invited the girl for dinner again, and they discussed Emma's job with the sheriff's office, which seemed to going well and Emma enjoyed it. She talked about how nice the sheriff and his wife were, and the classes Emma was thinking of taking.

Once the clock stuck nine, Henry was asleep, and Emma suggested they should leave for the night. Regina was sure to watch out the foyer window while Emma loaded him in. Nothing seemed to be amiss. She was getting the hang of handling her baby. She wasn't nearly as nervous around him anymore. Regina noticed the change. But that didn't mean she was fit for the job.

She waited a few minutes and pulled out of the driveway in her own Mercedes, twisting down the long road from her house. She could see Emma's tail lights a good distance away, and even when they were separated once they reached the busier portion of town, Regina was certain to keep her in sight.

Emma turned down a side street, but Regina didn't follow too closely. She parked a block away, under the awning of a convenience store.

Emma's car was parked under a streetlight, a safe spot. But no where near a house or the apartment that Emma had supposed to have been living at all this time. The one Regina assumed she still had the lease to.

She waited a few minutes, watching.

From this distance she could see Emma's knees and limbs braced on the seat when she climbed into the backseat, and the familiar blue of the baby blanket when she tucked it around her son in his car seat.

Yes, certainly worth reporting.

-O-O-O-

"Emma there's a phone call for you," David said, coming back into the bull pen from the main lobby.

"Who is it?" she asked, glancing up from the filing cabinet.

David just shrugged. "Don't know. Maggie just said you had a call."

She dog-eared the file she was organizing, and made her way to the front lobby.

"Um hello?" she asked once she'd been handed the corded phone and leaned herself back against the front desk.

"I've got reason to believe you haven't been entirely honest with me."

The cold edge of Regina's voice made Emma's stomach clench. "What? Regina? What are you…?"

"Do you know you could be expelled from the program for this?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, sorry," she bit out, sinking her weight onto her hip.

"When did you get evicted, Emma?"

A wave of hot shivers ran up her neck. She felt suddenly ill.

"I…"

"And why did you think you could get away with not telling anyone about it? Why would you put Henry in that sort of danger?"

"I'm…I wasn't trying to…" The air in the room seemed suddenly too thick. Something twisted inside her, and she knew there was no getting out of this. No excuses. She couldn't lie anymore. "We had nowhere else to go."

"You had other options. Even if it meant asking me."

"I couldn't do that." Her voice was stern. "I'm trying to do this on my own."

"Exactly your problem."

There was a long beat of silence, and for a moment Emma thought Regina had hung up.

"I think its best if Henry were in my care, and there are ways to make that happen. You know that, don't you?" She sounded as if she had already decided.

Emma's mind rushed. She couldn't process. She couldn't give him up… Once she'd laid eyes on him, she knew he was hers and there was no way she'd put another person into the system, to feel unloved and listless and unwanted. And traded. What would Henry's life be like if he never remembered her? If she was just 'the woman that gave him up' when she couldn't manage to make the better life she promised him a reality? The better life she was supposed to give him. The best chance.

"I don't want that," she almost whispered, her head bent low so no one could see or hear, her hair over her shoulders in a long blonde veil.

"It's the path you're on, Emma. It would be irresponsible of me to let you continue like this, with Henry."

"I just want a chance…" She blinked when a blur of tears clouded her vision, and watched when a quiet one splashed to the speckled tile under her chucks. "I just wanted us to have a chance."

"Henry's best chance is in capable hands."

Something shot through her. She wanted to hit something. She wanted to tell Regina to do her worst, that there was no way go through with this. No way Henry would be taken from her. Not permanently. She would fight for him, and there would none of this. No one assuming the best things for her or her son anymore. She would be the only one deciding. One day when she finally knew what the best things were…when they were in reach and seemed like possible goals. As much as a need to defend her child blazed in her, something else close to doubt told her otherwise. A voice she'd listened to for much longer.

"I know." She listened to her own voice crack.

"You'll meet me at the office after you get off. I'll bring Henry. We'll talk more then."

The line clicked dead, but Emma's knuckles gripped the rigid plastic of the phone, still holding it to her ear with dial tone blaring.

All this time, she thought she had been right. She thought things were going to be better. With Henry, with a new promise of something better for her life, she thought she'd actually get there. But just like everything else, it was pulled from her reach just when she almost had it. She wished she were back in jail. Where no decisions had to be made. Where another person's life wasn't in the balance.

Fury boiled deep in her stomach. A mix of defeat and hatred for everything that had ever happened. The parents that left her on the side of the road like garbage, the families that traded her in once they had babies of their own or their homes became too full. Neil who had left her to take his fall, to have his kid, to face his sentence. She was tired of being kicked by the people who she thought she could trust. There was no way out of this, no way that any good would come of her life after her kid was taken and she was left with absolutely nothing else.

"Emma?"

David's voice made her stomach churn once more. She saw his shoes on the tiles just in front of hers, and dared to lift her head, shaking her hair away from her face and wiping at her eyes. She turned, spine straight, ready to get the hell out of here and never come back.

He caught her arm. "What's going on?" He looked so entirely sincere that it made a new flood of tears stream over her cheeks, and she squeezed her eyes shut against the torrent. He couldn't care about her. Mary Margret couldn't care about her. Nobody did. Everyone would just end up using her; leaving her life once they found out what a terrible person she really was. How many mistakes she'd made. That was the beginning of everything anyways, wasn't it? Why her parents had left her, why Neil had set her up. Emma was a mistake.

Her mind flashed back to the moment, just a few weeks ago when he'd cornered her and asked her name, introduced her to his wife. When she'd actually felt like things were going to turn around.

"I have to go."

"Please. Just talk to me."

"I can't." She shook her head and pulled out of his reach. "I have to go."

Her palms smacked the plate glass of the front door. It slammed shut behind her but she didn't stay to see if David would follow. Her car was at the end of the lot, and she threw herself into the drivers seat, crumbling against the wheel.

Out of everything, one thing tore at her in a way she knew she'd never rid herself of. The fact that she had not wanted to be alone. She had not wanted Henry to be alone. She had convinced herself that it was not a selfish choice. That this had been right. For all the right reasons. He would be hope to her, and she would change for him. And now, they both would be alone. One without the other. She had always been the one to be put out, to be alone. But now she brought that upon someone else. She had sentenced him to a life without his mother, without love and with the same unwantedness she'd fought her entire life. And that was a feeling of hopelessness and guilt like she'd never felt.


	7. Chapter 7

There was no room for fighting anymore. No room for lying and tough bravados. Not when she was sitting across a desk from a Child Protective Services case worker, with Regina on her right, holding her son, and another tall no-nonsense looking man who had introduced himself as Glass, Regina's lawyer.

They had gone through her rights, what would happen next, and scheduled a hearing. Henry would remain with Regina for the time being until it could be determined with whom he'd be better off. If Emma could secure a place to live, she'd have to go through a handful of inspections, financial classes, parenting classes before she'd get a chance to have Henry back in her home. At this point, she wasn't sure these people even wanted her to better herself for her son. It seemed like they just wanted to keep her here in the endless cycle of red tape.

And by the way Regina smiled down at Henry when he stirred or made any noise, it seemed like she'd gotten what she wanted as well.

Emma couldn't quell the queasy feeling in her stomach. It was too surreal. Another woman would be taking her son home. She had tried her best with what she had, and it had not been enough. She had been labeled as unfit. And while she knew with everything in her that a home in a car wasn't fit for anyone, let alone a baby…something in her wanted to fight. Something in her wanted to take Henry and run. But she would not. This was his best chance now. Even if he never got another chance with her.

Regina let her hold him after the meeting adjourned. She kissed his head, and whispered that she was sorry. So sorry.

They were back at the beginning again.

She could not bring herself to tell him that she loved him. She did. She did with all her heart. But she blamed herself too much right now. She couldn't say it and not feel like the entire world was caving in around her. Things were too fresh, and new, and if Henry was not hers anymore, she didn't want to fill his life with anymore unkept promises.

When she relinquished the sleeping baby back to Regina, and she watched her strap him into the car seat in her Mercedes, she wished she had told him.

-O-O-O-

David had been trying to reach Emma for days. She had not shown up to work, had not called. While he was on his beat, he watched for her car but didn't see it. Something terrible had happened, he was certain.

There was nothing to do but wait.

Mary Margret had been researching in vitro, and after only a few days she decided she did not want it. She insisted they keep trying. She wanted this baby to be theirs, wholly and completely. He admired her determination, but he was getting weary. He hadn't said anything to her about what had happened a few days ago, and it had been weighing on him.

Truthfully, he was worried about her. It had not been the first time he'd let some petty crime go, because he had more faith in people than that. Sometimes too much, but he sensed something different in Emma. Something great. Potential to bring herself out of the cycle she'd been stuck in. She was sort of like a daughter to him, in a way. He wanted to see her successful. The fact that she'd been missing for the past week had set a dark cloud over him that his wife didn't fail to notice.

"Is something wrong?" she asked him while he was pushing his food around at dinner one evening. "Is it the salt? I knew I used too much…"

His hand reached out for hers. "Its not that…Dinner's perfect."

Mary Margret set her fork down. "Then what's wrong?" She had that look in her eyes. The same one when she was thinking too long about the idea of her empty belly, when she didn't feel good enough for him anymore.

He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles lightly. To comfort her and himself both.

"Its Emma. She's…She hasn't shown up for days."

"Has she called?"

David shook his head. "I haven't seen her. I'd say it isn't like her, but I'm not sure it isn't. I had faith in her, but I was probably just being too trusting. I guess all I can do is hope that she's ok."

Mary Margret smiled sadly. "Or hope she comes back."

She would never cease to amaze him. The one thing she'd wanted for their lives was nearly unattainable for her, and yet she still continued to hope for the good in him, and everyone around them.

He mirrored her smile. "I love you," he told her and kissed her hand again.

-O-O-O-

Yellow lamplight filled the room with a warm glow, over the desk where her papers and projects were spread in an endless array of grade reports and coloring sheets. David had fallen asleep hours ago, after a long day. She glanced over her shoulder at him, back to her and snoring softly.

She was a punctual woman and she tried to keep a schedule as best she could, but she secretly enjoyed the late nights she spent planning lessons. She didn't have many moments of quiet to herself, with a room full of forth graders all day and her husband at home. Not that she resented any of it. But having a moment to herself was a nice reprieve. It gave her a chance to think. She worked to the rhythm of her husband's breathing, jotting notes for the next week's lessons and making meticulous schedules for each class day.

Something clinking downstairs made her jump, looking towards the open bedroom door. She glanced back at David, remembering he kept his pistol in his bedside drawer.

If she woke him for nothing, he'd just be grumpy in the morning.

She waited a minute, and then there was knocking. David didn't stir.

She went to the doorway. From her spot, she could see down the stairs to the foyer. The outside light had flicked on, as it did if there was motion outside. Someone's shadow blocked the light filtering through the frosted glass of the front door.

She waited again, trying to make out the figure as someone she knew. Who would be here at this time of night? She took the top few stairs, pausing, and grabbed an umbrella from the stand by the door once she'd reached the bottom. This close, she could make out blonde hair and a tattered hoodie.

"Emma?" She lowered her weapon when she swung the door open.

"I'm sorry." The words bubbled from the girl's mouth immediately. "I know its late. I just needed to…to talk to someone…and go inside somewhere. So I'm sorry, I just…" Tears were on her cheeks, and she lifted the sleeve of her jacket to wipe at her nose.

"Are you ok? Come inside." Mary Margret moved aside, poking the umbrella back into its spot. "David's sleeping," she whispered once she shut and locked the door again.

"I'm sorry," Emma whispered again, wrapping her arms over her chest. In her too-big hoodie, she looked almost childlike.

"Hey." Mary Margret reached out to touch the girl's shoulder. "Its ok. I'm glad you're here."

She watched Emma glance away, tried to follow her gaze. But in the dim light from the porch bulb outside, she couldn't see much.

She had a thought.

"How about some cocoa?"

Emma nodded silently, not moving or unfolding herself.

She guided her to the kitchen, where they'd had dinner just a few weeks ago. She filled the kettle and turned back to her. She'd leaned herself against the counter, still sniffling and trying desperately to calm her tears.

"We've been worried about you," she said. The words broke through the silence of the house like a sword.

Emma's eyes didn't lift from the floor.

She turned, rummaging for the cocoa powder in the cabinet. The kettle whistling was a welcome relief to the tension, and she moved to quiet it before it grew loud enough to wake David.

She poured two mugs full, and dolloped on the whipped cream and plenty of cinnamon. She had a feeling they'd be awake awhile.

Emma followed her into the living room where she perched on the couch and passed Emma her drink.

"It was a happy mistake when I discovered how great cinnamon with cocoa was." She pulled the blanket from the back of the couch, offering Emma the other end of it.

"I made it up when I was ten. I thought I was the only one that had it that way." Emma sniffled over the rim of her mug. "I'm sorry if I woke you up."

Mary Margret shook her head. "I was awake planning lessons. Did you drive here?"

Emma nodded. There was a beat of silence. "Something…" Her breath caught. She squeezed her eyes closed. "Something really bad happened."

"To Henry?" Mary Margret straightened up, leaning closer.

Emma nodded, moving to set her mug on the coffee table and brace her elbows on her knees. Her hair fell into her face.

She wanted to pull the girl into a hug, but didn't want to make her retreat further into herself. She got the feeling Emma had not had very many tender moments in her life, no encouraging hugs from parents—or foster parents. It felt like being in a room with a cornered animal. She wasn't certain what move to make next, what question to ask.

She did have to. When Emma spoke, her voice was quiet and small. "Henry was taken away."

Mary Margret felt her throat tighten with worry. "What? What do you mean?"

Emma drew an audible breath and wiped at her eyes. "He's gone. Regina…Regina found out I'm living in my car, and she turned me in to social services…I was kicked out of my apartment about a month ago, and I just…We had nowhere else to go, so…I know it wasn't a good choice. I knew it from the beginning, and that's all anyone's been saying since it all happened, so I get it, ok? And I don't need someone else telling me. That's not why I'm here. I just have to…find a job and a place…and…" Her voice cracked. "…and help because I realize now that's the only way to get him back."

Mary Margret was silent for a long while. She had suspected she and Henry had moved on from town, found somewhere else to establish themselves. She knew David was hurt by it, and he'd get over it in time. But she had never expected this.

She watched the girl stir the spoon stuck in her cocoa.

"Well…I wasn't planning on telling you how wrong you are, if that's what you expected."

Emma glanced up at her, tossing a wave of blonde hair over her shoulder.

"How about you get some rest and we'll talk in the morning? There's a guest room upstairs. I'll show you."

She stood up, bringing her mug with her. Emma sat still, staring after her. She turned, and gave the girl a smile. "Are you coming? Bring the cocoa, if you like."

Emma finally followed uncertainly, her steps slow behind Mary Margret's.

"We hardly have guests, and I just washed the sheets earlier this week." She said, flicking on the light switch in the guest room. "The bathroom is the last door on the right. We're on the left. Are you ok with just the comforter, or do you want an extra blanket?"

"I'm fine," Emma chirped, standing ramrod straight in the doorway.

"I'll grab you some pajamas." She patted Emma's shoulder and shuffled to their bedroom. Their talking had woken David, and he was blinking in the lamp light from her desk.

"What's going on?" he mumbled.

She drew a soft blue set of pajamas from her drawer. "Don't worry about it," she whispered, walking over to kiss his cheek. "Emma's here. She's going to sleep in the guest room."

"What?" he said, moving to sit up.

She shook her head. "We talked already. You and I will discuss it in the morning. I'll be right back. Go back to sleep. Everything's fine."

Emma was sitting on the bed when she returned, her mug on the nightstand. She took the pajamas, and Mary Margret didn't miss the relieved and grateful smile, even though it was small.

"I'm glad you found us," she assured her, reaching to touch her shoulder again. "We'll talk in the morning, ok? Sleep well."

She pulled the door behind her, and it was nearly shut when she heard Emma call her name.

"Hmm?" She poked her head back inside.

"Um…" Emma held up the pajamas and gestured around the room, still looking uncertain and lost. Like she was worried she was doing the wrong thing. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, Emma." She smiled. "Goodnight."

David wasn't asleep when she returned, but he'd gotten up to turn off her desk light. She curled herself against him, finding a comfortable spot.

"Is everything ok?" he mumbled sleepily, drawing his arm over her waist.

"Yes," she said, resting her head against his shoulder. "Everything's fine."


	8. Chapter 8

The bed was too soft, too warm to leave. She snuggled deeper into the blankets, not minding the long lines of morning light streaming over the carpet, along the cream-colored walls. She couldn't remember being this comfortable. In jail, it was a cot against the wall. In the foster homes, it was bunk beds. She'd never had a whole queen mattress to herself, and she was going to take advantage of it.

Eventually though, when her mind wasn't clouded with sleep anymore, she knew she had to wake. She stretched, and pushed the covers aside. A mirror on the wide dresser showed her a tangled mess of hair and dark circled eyes.

She groaned at her reflection, opting to ask Mary Margret for a hairbrush and some make up when she could.

She hadn't really looked around their house when she'd been here before. Mary Margret had cute taste. The guest room was furnished with an antique brass bed and a whicker rocker in the corner, the dresser and its matching mirror, and a vase of silk carnations. The hallway was long and led straight for the stairs. Near the middle of the hall, between the guest room door and the bathroom, a short console table was set with picture frames. Emma smiled at one, displaying a picture of them years ago, it seemed. Mary Margret's hair was longer, and she wore a Renaissance-style costume with an archer's bow slung over her shoulder. David was dressed as a dashing gentleman, complete with a sword at his hip. A Renaissance festival? Halloween? The other pictures showed them in all sorts of cutesy poses; one where they stood on either side of an elderly woman with long greying hair. Mary Mrgret's mother? His?

Soft voices downstairs and the smell of crackling bacon drew her to the stairs.

Mary Margret was pouring coffee, and David was at the stove. He grinned when he saw her.

"Good morning, sleepy head. We put off breakfast as long as we could. But I've got to leave soon." He was in his uniform, but his holster and belt were missing.

"What time is it?" she asked blearily.

"Eight thirty," Mary Margret almost sang, passing her a warm mug. "We didn't want to wake you up. Lucky its Saturday, or you'd have missed me already."

She scooted onto a bar stool at the breakfast bar that overlooked the kitchen.

Mary Margret perched next to her. "Did you sleep well?" She offered her some milk for her coffee.

"Yeah." Emma nodded.

"Good, because we've got lots to discuss. Mary Margret and I had a talk earlier," David said, sliding her a plate heaped with eggs, bacon, and two thick pancakes. She stared at her breakfast, uncertain. Here it came. A peace offering before they made the decision to send her back out on her own.

"OK," she said warily.

"I'm not one for speeches," he said. "You've probably heard enough of them anyways." He made a plate for his wife before making his own, and passed it to her. He stood across from Emma and crunched into a strip of bacon before continuing. "Do you know why I let you help out at the station, Emma?"

Her lips thinned and she stared down at her eggs.

"Because I trusted you," he answered for her. "I believed that you could make it. I wanted to see good in you that maybe you didn't see in yourself."

Emma felt the familiar prick of tears at the corners of her eyes.

"And I still see that. I still see that you can make things right. I know you've got it in you. And that's why we've decided to let you stay for awhile."

She looked up, confused. "What?"

David just nodded. "The guest room is yours, for however long you'll need it."

"I don't…" she stammered. "I don't understand. Is there a catch?"

David smiled. "Of course there is. You'll stay here, for however long you like, if you just show up for work Monday morning."

Emma glanced back down at her untouched plate. She didn't get it. They were just welcoming her back like her life hadn't fallen to complete disrepair at her own doing. She had not expected this. No one had ever been this kind. To make her believe that all the bullshit she'd gone through could just vanish at their word. No one except…

"You're giving me my job back?" she almost whispered.

"Absolutely," David said.

"And we're going to help you get Henry back." She felt Mary Margret's gentle hand on her shoulder.

Now she shook her head. "There's no way…"

"Yes. Its simple. If you follow your plan after the hearing, there's no way they'll be able to keep you from him."

"Regina's going to fight it," she said defeatedly.

"I don't doubt it," David answered, looking confident. "But if we appear in court for you…"

"No," Emma refused. "I'm not going to ask you guys to do that."

"Why would we not? You're living with us, working for me," David said casually as if it was already commonplace. He quirked an eyebrow, as if considering the conversation settled. "Alright. Well, I've got run. Maybe you ladies can do some shopping. Let's go out for dinner tonight," he suggested, checking his watch and scarfing down the last bit of breakfast before dumping the plate in the sink.

"Dish washer!" Mary Margret amended dryly without looking up from where she was sorting yesterday's mail.

He threw Emma a sly grin, gave an innocent shrug, and followed his wife's orders of putting his dishes away in their proper slots. He rounded the breakfast bar to where Mary Margret sat, and stole a kiss before heading out the door.

"Eat up, Emma," she said, standing. "I thought we'd go run some errands, pick you up some new clothes."

Emma's eyes flickered between her half-eaten breakfast and Mary Margret who was now busy cleaning the coffee pot. They were letting her _live_ here. She had her job back, and they had agreed to help her win Henry's case. And now this woman was offering her a shopping spree?

"You guys are too nice." Her voice was flat, suspicious. She didn't deserve any of this.

"I didn't know there was such a thing," Mary Margret said with a laugh. "It'll be fun. I promise not to be a mom. You can pick your own things and…" When she turned from the sink, Emma had a faraway look in her eyes, her fork resting still against her plate.

She realized what she'd just said, and doubled back. "Oh." She looked down into the sink where the dishwater was draining. "I didn't mean…"

"Its ok," Emma said quickly, stamping out any response Mary Margret had planned. She stood and followed David's previous path to the dishwasher, stowing away her dishes and hurrying back for the stairs.

-O-O-O-

"Oh you definitely have to get that."

"I have a jacket." That didn't stop Emma from twisting side to side, admiring the way the red leather complimented her hair. "Besides, its way too expensive."

"I'm paying," Mary Margret insisted.

"No, no I can't…" Emma protested.

"Yes." Mary Margret tried to look stern, putting her hands on her hips. "I insist. Besides, it'll be snowing soon and you can't have just that hoodie to keep you warm." She reached for the rest of the clothes Emma had picked: a few simple t-shirts, a couple sweaters, and some new jeans. She was in desperate need of jeans. There had also been a soft pink dress that had made Mary Margret smile in a way that made her cheeks glow, and Emma had been unable to refuse, even if she wouldn't possibly have anywhere to wear it.

She slipped the leather jacket over her shoulders and found the hanger. "OK. I really think I'm set, now," she insisted, hoping Mary Margret wouldn't find anything else that Emma just 'absolutely had to have.' It wasn't like she didn't appreciate this, it was just strange. No foster family had ever bought her clothes before. Not that she could remember. Other kids would show up at school in jeans that were still bright blue, Chucks that weren't peeled and worn. Not that she saw David and Mary Margret as foster parents… At this point, she wasn't exactly sure what they were to her.

Friends? She could think of no other term. She supposed parental figures fit, but she didn't want to apply the same label she'd given to all the other parents in her life. All of them had stripped the words of their meaning; Emma wouldn't ever have a father or a mother. No one she saw in such a way, because she was not sure what one actually looked like.

She laid her purchases on the counter, and tried not to feel guilty and small and strange when Mary Margret swiped her own card to pay the bill. She thought on what that kind of idea meant for Henry. His own mother had never had parents to learn from. She didn't have the first clue about what to do. He had been the one teaching her, little by little, day by day how to love him. How to live in every moment, and for the right reasons. He had begun, in just those few months, to show her that life could have potential again.

She needed him back.

He was her only hope.

-O-O-O-

She was wearing her red jacket like battle armor when she showed up for the hearing on the following Thursday. Regina was toting Henry in his carrier, and she'd dressed him in new clothes Emma had never seen before. She supposed she had taken the opportunity to buy him some new things. Fine. If she wanted to dote on him, she wouldn't find fault with it.

They discussed with her caseworker, Dr. Hopper, all of the requirements she would have to meet in order to take Henry back.

It seemed simple enough. She just needed to keep a steady job, and prove that she had a residence. She would have to bring David and Mary Margret in to attend mediation to act as references that she was making progress. Hopper seemed pleased that she'd already gotten a place to stay and been welcomed back to her job, but he indicated it would be even better if she could prove she could keep her momentum. That once Henry was returned to her, things wouldn't unravel again. She agreed.

Henry had gained weight, and watched around him with wide eyes, taking everything in. She was already missing things. She couldn't stand it.

She needed him back, but only when things were right.

After the meeting adjourned, she asked with only slight timidity to hold him. Regina let her pick him up out of the carrier, and she could tell he fit differently in her arms. He gave her a smile, the first one she'd seen, and she gasped sharply.

"Oh. Hi," she almost laughed. She cradled his head in the crook of her arm. "Look at that big smile. You're getting so big."

She touched the hat she didn't recognize, knit white. Not the thin blue one they'd given her at the hospital. His features were more defined, and his hair had grown, soft whisps of brown peeking under the little cap. He didn't look like either one of them. She could see certain characteristics, like her eyes and Neal's hair.

"He smiles a lot," Regina said, standing next to her. "He's a sweetheart."

She wasn't really listening.

This smile was for her.

She leaned down to kiss his forehead. He laughed, a little gurgling laugh that made her heart clench and explode all within one single beat. She laughed back.

His little hand reached up to her hair, pulling a handful around his fingers. She didn't mind.

He had been taken care of. He was happy. He was growing and healthy, and she knew she could resent Regina no longer, no matter what tricks she was trying to pull. Ultimately, this had been in Henry's best interest and it wasn't fair to him to deny it.

"Regina," she said, glancing up. "I just want to say…Well, I want to say thank you."

She shook her head. "I know that's weird. I know you don't think I mean it…"

"I know," Regina said, holding up a hand, half-smiling in a way that told Emma she understood. "You don't have to explain, Miss Swan."

Emma nodded. As much as she hated to, she bent to lay Henry back in the carrier with one last kiss to his cheek.

"See you next week," she told Regina, standing.

David was outside in his ancient pickup truck waiting for her.

"How it go?" he asked once she'd pulled the door shut.

"Great."

He looked surprised. "Really?"

She nodded, decidedly. "Yeah…It went great."


	9. Chapter 9

"And you profession, Mrs. Nolan?"

"I'm a schoolteacher."

"And you, sir?"

"I'm the sheriff," David answered, not sounding proud but firmly establishing the fact. He wasn't going to let it be forgotten. He had at least some knowledge of how these things went.

The mediator jotted a few notes.

"This is quite a simple issue we've got. And since it is Miss Swan's first offense, we really won't have ground to keep her son in supplemental care longer than necessary."

Emma shifted in her seat, wishing he'd get on with it and drop all this legal jargon.

"You have allowed Emma a place to stay, correct?" Dr. Hopper said over folded hands.

Mary Margret answered. "Yes. Emma's...well Emma is a friend of ours." She blinked and gave a kind smile. "We knew we had to help her out. She's welcome at our home as long as she will need."

"We hope, of course, that you'll eventually secure your own residence." Hopper turned to Emma.

She nodded, squaring her shoulders. "I'm saving money now. For a place. And school. I'm...thankful they're letting me stay awhile. Otherwise I wouldn't be able to save right now. I know it isn't a forever thing. And I see that eventually Henry is going to need his own space. We both will. I don't plan to stay there forever, but I'm glad to have their help for now."

Dr. Hopper beamed proudly. "That's good to hear, Emma. What classes are you planning to take?"

"I'm actually..." She'd only discussed this briefly with David after the night she'd jumped that man outside the gas station. "I'm actually thinking about law enforcement."

She didn't miss David's proud smile he tried to hide behind his hand.

"To help people who were once in your situation?" Hopper said.

Emma nodded. "I'm not perfect...by a long shot. But I see the good in people, because people have seen it in me." She met David's, then Mary Margret's eyes with a smile.

"I start at the first of the year," she said, turning her gaze back to Hopper. "I figured it would be enough time to save up and get some other things moving before I started classes."

"I'm proud of you, Emma." He nodded. "I assume we all are. It takes a lot of wisdom to come as far as your have."

Emma nodded silently, looking down at her hands in her lap, and then Henry who was sleeping in his carrier between her and Regina's chairs.

"If everyone is in agreement, we will cede guardianship of Henry back to Emma once the case is closed and paperwork is processed, since you've met the requirements, and seem to be on a better path," the mediator said, glancing to Emma.

She nodded again, and watched Mary Margret's hand clench David's under the table.

He could come home. He was hers again, and this would never happen again. After everything, she was glad it had. It was a difficult thing to accept, and something she had never believed before. That sometimes even good could come from something bad. She was thankful that Regina had done this, and did not want to blame her any longer. Blaming was for children. This was her life, and her decisions, and she had always known that. She just hadn't known how to make the right ones. She had never needed anyone, and chosen for herself to never depend on anyone again. But now they had all shown her. Shown her that being loved wasn't so bad, and that being forced into heartbreak could actually make her all the better.

She sensed that things between her and Regina would never be perfect, because they were both too proud and too stubborn to change. But they could do better. For Henry.

She had thought she was heartless. She had wanted to break all ties and go at this by herself, but that would've been detrimental to both her and Henry. Regina was harsh, and had nearly as many walls as Emma herself, but that did not make her irredeemable. Their likenesses could be used for the better. It would take time, and patience.

She had been so ready to quit. Ready to give up and admit she couldn't do this. She couldn't be a mother. But the people who she would've chosen to push away had pushed back, and here they were. Still by her side. Everything had seemed so dark after prison. She knew without Henry, there was no way she could've gotten here. She would not have been able to believe that her life could be different. Could have trust and love in it again. She could not have believed in risking her heart again.

When she passed Henry's carrier into her hands, Emma couldn't help but feel relieved and like everything was falling into place again. New pieces included.

"Regina..." she said, staring down at Henry who was grinning up at Mary Margret like she was sunshine herself. "I still want you to have a place in Henry's life...if you want. Obviously, things haven't been..."

"Gladly," the woman said with the most honest smile Emma ever remembered seeing.

Things were not perfect, and they didn't need to be. She was not enough of an optimist to believe they could. But this was ok for now.

-O-O-O-

The cardboard box had remained untouched in the back corner of the basement for nearly a year now. He hadn't ever asked her about what they should do with it. It didn't feel right to return it, or give it away. It just sat there like this weight, in a dark corner of the room that they never approached and never even looked at. A corner of the room that made the house feel heavier and pulled downwards, so he tried his best to ignore it every time he had to come down here for some tool or to check the hot water heater.

He was surprised when she suggested—out of the blue—that they open it. And put it together in Emma's bedroom before she got home that afternoon with Henry. A new crib for a new addition. To their family.

"Well, he'll need somewhere to sleep, won't he?" she had said.

The crib had belonged—would've belonged to—their child. They had purchased it in hope and expectation, that maybe accumulating 'baby' things would make something give. He could not have imagined a better purpose for it, than to gift it to the girl who had entered their lives with such perfect timing. Who had restored a hope that she hadn't even been aware was lost.

"You sure you can carry it up the stairs?" The two of them pushed the long, flat box out form its corner.

"Yeah," she said, blowing a strand of hair from her eyes. "We can do it. Together."

He gave her an encouraging smile.

Thirty minutes later, they sat in a sea of unassembled pieces, her manning the packet of various screws and bolts, and him conquering the stupid hex key.

"I'm glad we're doing this," she said with a smile, reading the instructions upside down. He reached over to pluck the huge accordion of paper from between them and toss it aside.

He leaned close, touching his forehead to hers.

"What?" she laughed at his mischievous smile.

"I'm just really proud of you," he said, leaning up to press his lips to hers.

-O-O-O-

"We did a little decorating while you were gone," Mary Margret said, leading Emma up the stairs, carrying the backpack of toys and clothes Henry had accumulated.

"Tell me it's not pink," Emma hoped, jokingly.

Mary Margret grinned. "I wouldn't torture you that much. It's a much better surprise."

The guest room, previously furnished with just the bed and the dresser, had been rearranged to accommodate a crib and a little changing table with its own drawers. The wicker rocker was still in the corner. She noticed a baby monitor, a tower of packages of diapers, and a soft new baby blanket stitched with an H and printed with dragons and cartoon caricatures of knights in armor. Even a mobile had been hung over the crib, antique with glittering glass unicorns.

"You guys..." Emma breathed, fresh tears slipping down her cheeks.

"It wasn't a big deal. It was easy once we learned to read Chinese to put the crib together," Mary Margret joked.

Emma lifted her hands to her cheeks, wiping her face quickly. "I'm sorry. I just never imagined...How did you guys even have time to do all this?"

The older woman chuckled. "You're welcome, Emma," she said evenly.

She turned, facing Mary Margret. "Thank you. I don't think I'll ever be able to say it enough. All my life I've been scared to open up...and you guys are just so open. And kind. Sometimes I don't know what to do with it."

She wiped at her eyes again, tears flowing freely now that she wasn't yet able to stop.

Mary Margret reached out, and Emma willingly stepped into her hug.

"We love you, Emma," she said softly.

She set her chin on the woman's shoulder. "I know."

She knew it. She couldn't say it back, but she knew it. One day she would understand why—or maybe not, and that seemed fine too. She was learning she didn't have to know motives. She just had to open herself to opportunity.

They stood a few moments in silence until Emma finally gathered herself enough to pull away.

"Can I tell you something?" Mary Margret almost whispered.

Emma nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed. Mary Margret sat next to her, watching the glass unicorns glint in the lamp light.

"David and I have wanted a child for a very long time. And I've...well I've had one too many miscarriages..." She was silent a second too long. "We had all but given up when we met you. I don't think you realize just how much...how our lives have changed since you and Henry have been in them. You two...you helped us believe again."

Tears dripped onto Emma's lap, onto her hands where they were clasped.

She didn't know what to do with any of this. Neal, the one person who had given her the idea that she could possibly be lovable and love someone in return, had abandoned her. And then there were these people who had done nothing but give to her. How was she supposed to deny that they were anything but good, anything but genuine people? Even while everything inside her told her to run, she only wanted to stay.

Emma swiped a hand across her face. "Can we get some cocoa?" She asked quietly.

Mary Margret laughed, worrying a hand over her own cheeks. Emma smiled back.

"Absolutely."

-O-O-O-

She stirred awake. The sun had not even begun to creep through the curtains, but she could see the faint warning of morning light. Henry was awake, making his usual noises, from his new crib.

This kid was an early riser and probably always would be, and tried not to sigh about it when she stood to cross the room and gather him in her arms.

"Good morning, kiddo," she whispered to him, and he quieted in her arms.

She eased herself into the wicker rocker, and it creaked cozily under her weight. "Its too early," she yawned, looking down into his watchful green eyes that mirrored her own.

"Its alright, I'll pay you back once you start school."

She leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. "So what will you call them? Uncle David? Aunt Mary Margret. That seems like a mouthful." She rocked them for a few seconds, finding an easy rhythm. "They're so happy to have you around, you don't even know. I'm so happy to have you, too." Her fingers found his, roaming over his tiny fingernails.

"Can I tell you something? I didn't really want to believe in love, or in anything anymore. But you saved me, Henry."

She smiled at him, and he returned it. He gurgled and cooed, grasping her finger with his.

"I think we're going to be alright. Now that we're home."

She leaned her head back, gazing out at the sun peeking over the sill of the window with rays of yellow and bright orange. In that moment, she knew that there certainly must be a thing like true love, because she felt it. She'd been shown it over and over recently. Yes, she could've continued on without it. She could've ignored it. But with her son in her arms, she could not imagine herself refusing it.

-O-O-O-

AN: Part II coming soon, titled Sound. I'm not sure if I should post it as a new chapter, but designate it as a new "part" of the story, or start a new Story altogether. Advice? (Mainly because I already have so many things written on here, and I'm tired of keeping up with all of them.)


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